


Warmth

by Lullabylily



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gift Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lullabylily/pseuds/Lullabylily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur and Merlin find themselves lost in a snowstorm… Written for silkmoth as a holiday gift in 2010.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warmth

**Warmth**

  
  
“Are you sure we’re still going in the right direction? I mean; the snow is clearly covering up any decent landmarks… How do we know we’re not going around in circles?”  
  
It was not the first time Merlin had asked. Even though he had the courtesy to phrase it differently each time, to make it sound less like he was nagging.   
  
“We are  _going_  to Camelot. We are going to get there before nightfall. As soon as we arrive, you are going to go down to the kitchens and get me a huge supper, galleons of hot water for a bath and a jug of wine.”   
  
Arthur had interrupted his little speech three times to let out a shuddering breath. Merlin wanted to smile, Arthur sounded so much  _less_  royal and commanding when his voice was small and frozen like that. But Merlin was long past smiling. Arthur was soaked, they both were.   
  
Initially his wet feet had been a distraction, now they were hurting with every step he took. He wanted to trust Arthur’s sense of direction but in the current state of his wet clothes clinging to his frozen body it was hard to be anything but glum and pessimistic.   
  
On top of it all the light was rapidly fading and with it came the ominous threat to be caught in a snowstorm at  _night_.   
  
“Arthur…” Merlin started again. But Arthur didn’t let him finish this time; his eyes flashing furiously at Merlin when he turned his head towards his servant.   
  
“No, Merlin!” his voice was angry, and Merlin shrank back from it. “What do you want me to say?” Arthur continued, “You want me to say that we are completely lost? That I have no idea how far from Camelot we really are? That I know we are vaguely walking in the right direction but we’re not likely going to reach Camelot by nightfall? That we might both freeze to death if we don’t find shelter soon?”  
  
Merlin stared at the prince, his eyes wide, and his mouth slightly open, uncovering his chattering teeth.  
  
“Is that what you want to hear,  _Merlin_?”  
  
“No!” Merlin protested weakly.   
  
They had been fine only moments ago; making jokes about the failed hunting trip, the early snow and the latest palace gossip. But now the truth was bared in one swift swoop. They were both exhausted and worn out, not to mention freezing and soaked to the bone. They hadn’t eaten in ages, they barely had any supplies with them, just the pack Merlin was carrying and most of that was hunting gear: utterly useless.   
  
Arthur was still staring at him, breathing heavily and visibly shaking; whether from cold or anger, Merlin couldn’t ascertain.   
  
“Let’s just keep on walking, in whatever direction you think is best.” Merlin pleaded. “I’ll stop talking, I swear.”  
  
Arthur turned around and looked down what they both hoped to be a road.   
  
“We don’t really have a choice. Stay close to me. We can’t lose each other in this snow.”  
  
Arthur’s command for Merlin to stay close to him warmed him inside, if only for a moment.   
  
They didn’t speak for a very long time, until all the daylight had vanished and the only illumination was the snow, reflecting the light of the stars and the moon. Their pace was infinitely slowing down, each step a much greater effort than the one before, each step sinking deeper into layers of fresh snow.   
  
Arthur avoided his gaze most of the time, looking away guiltily. Merlin knew Arthur felt himself responsible for the situation. In a way he was, Merlin admitted to himself, it had been his idea to send the other knights away with their horses, when snow began to trickle down from the sky. Arthur’s ill-conceited determination not to return home empty-handed had caused them to stay behind. With the snow suddenly worsening, the chances of finding any animals worth shooting were growing thin and they’d finally decided to return as well. But by then the roads weren’t visible anymore, due to the snow, and they were both relying on guesswork. They’d known the road would be several hours on foot, since it had taken them some time on horses. But then hours passed and they still had no idea how close to Camelot they’d managed to get…  
  
When Arthur suddenly stopped Merlin thought the prince was simply breaking down, incapable of moving either one of his frozen feet. But Arthur was looking up at something, the expression on his face surprised.  
  
“It can’t be… How… But… It has to be…”  
  
When Merlin’s eyes found what Arthur appeared to be looking at, his heart leapt in his chest. The brown shape looked like a house! Had they reached a village? A tavern? An inn, maybe? Anyplace where they were likely to have a fire and possible some nice hot soup? But it only took him another heartbeat to make out that the house appeared to be deserted.   
  
Arthur was still staring at it in shock. “It’s a hunting lodge.” Arthur said, “My father’s old hunting lodge.”   
  
For some reason the only thing Merlin instantly agreed about was the ‘old’ part.  
  
“Is that good?” he managed to make his voice not sound too hopeful.   
  
“I should know the way back to Camelot from this point,” Arthur started, “we travelled to these parts often when I was younger. But it means to reach Camelot we still have at least half a day’s walk ahead of us.”  
  
Merlin’s heart sank. Half a day? In the snow and without daylight it would surely take them all night.  
  
“We can’t continue like this,” Arthur decided. “We should be able to find shelter in the cabin for the night and continue our journey tomorrow.”  
  
The cabin really was only that: shelter. Merlin found it hard to believe that this had once been a royal lodge. Years of disuse had thoroughly wrecked the place. But despite the mould, the broken furniture and the leaking roof, they were both relieved to be out of the snow. Their breath still shaped swirls of white vapour in the freezing air around them, the cabin not offering the warmth they’d been craving.   
  
Merlin shook off some snow from his clothing, creating a small puddle of water at his feet. Arthur busily examined the cabin, looking for  _anything_  that could be used to create heat.   
  
He found a woollen blanket, half-eaten by moths and smelling vile. He found two worn pillows and a stump of a candle.   
  
“What we really need is a fire.” Arthur said finally.  
  
The idea of a hot fire was making Merlin delirious. He felt his mouth twist into a crooked smile. “You look blue.” He told Arthur.   
  
Arthur stared at him, ignoring the statement, he continued; “There is no way we’ll find any dry wood outside, we’ll have to use some of the furniture, and hope the chimney still draws.”  
  
Merlin’s eyes went from the broken chairs to the fireplace and back. Until Arthur rolled his eyes and took the initiative to drag the pieces of broken furniture to the hearth and pile them up for a fire. Finally Merlin snapped out of his trance and came to Arthur’s aid.   
  
“The wood is slightly damp and frozen, but it’s the best chance we have.” Arthur stated. The words sounding more hopeful than the tone of his voice conveyed.   
  
“We’ll manage,” Merlin supplied hopefully.  
  
Arthur retreated from the fire and turned to ransack the pack Merlin had been carrying, obviously in search of something that could help them get the fire going.  
  
Merlin knelt by the fire rubbing two pieces of wood against on another, shamming an attempt to create a spark, while he softly whispered “ _Baerne..._ ”   
  
He kept the spark low at first, coaxing it gently with his magic to devour the pieces of damp and moulded wood.   
  
The heat emanating from the fire was intoxicating. It made Merlin feel dizzy, his body thawing literally, strained muscles unclenching creating his body to convulse into full body shivers. It was the best and the worst sensation all at the same time.   
  
“You!” Arthur exclaimed, and Merlin snapped out of his trance, turning away from the fire to face Arthur’s furious expression.   
  
“I… I got the fire going.” Merlin stated, wondering why Arthur wasn’t looking ecstatic, relieved or even mildly proud at Merlin.  
  
“I can see that.”   
  
Arthur’s voice was cold, and Merlin turned his head to quickly glance at the fire, checking whether it was still burning. It was. He simply couldn’t feel the warmth any longer; it was sucked out of the room by Arthur’s murderous expression.   
  
Merlin shifted sideways, making room for Arthur, “You should get warm too,” he tried.  
  
Arthur remained standing, towering over Merlin in that intimidating way. “How did you get the fire going?” he asked frostily  
  
“I…” Merlin felt fear creep up at his chest and throat.  _He hadn’t been careful enough!_  “Same as I do every morning for you, I used my hands.” He tried to smile innocently at Arthur but fear and guilt were etched deep into the lines on his face.   
  
“No you didn’t, there is no way you would have managed it, given the state of the wood” there was an almost sad, desperate edge to Arthur’s voice, “You used your magic!”  
  
Merlin hadn’t believed it was possible to feel even colder than he had been a few moments ago, but this did it. He felt every previously still warm place inside his body freeze over.   
  
“I… I…” Merlin stammered. Arthur hadn’t simply said ‘you used magic’, he said ‘ _your_  magic’. Merlin’s magic. As if he had been aware it existed.   
  
“Don’t you try to deny it!” Arthur continued, his face a storm cloud washing over Merlin who sat pitifully at his feet.   
  
Merlin couldn’t get his voice to work. What should he say anyway? How could he defend himself? How could he protect himself from Arthur now, now the man knew his secret?   
  
“You!” Arthur bellowed again, frustration and anger so evident the single word was painful to Merlin’s ears. “You and your magic! You could have probably stopped the snow, couldn’t you?” Arthur continued, “You could have gotten us to Camelot whispering one those slimy spells. But no, you wait and wait until we’re both on the brink of death and then you light a fire behind my back, pretending it is nothing.”  
  
Merlin was hyperventilating now. Had Arthur known all along?   
  
“How long have you known?” Merlin stammered.  
  
Arthur seemed to try and calm himself, the expression of his face twisting as he tried to school it. The prince let out a small breath before he spoke again, “I’ve always suspected, since that time you fought me and I almost lost a battle against a _peasant_  who had somehow managed to distract me several times throughout the fight. I’ve known with certainty for some time now.”  
  
Merlin shivered, remembering the fight and Arthur’s voice  _There’s something about you, Merlin. I can’t quite put my finger on it._  
  
Arthur had  _known_. It seemed such a horrible thought, that he’d hid it from someone who could see through him all the time. And yet… Arthur hadn’t killed him. Yet. Despite the angry, disappointed expression on his face, it didn’t look like he was going to now.  
  
“Why didn’t you say something?” Merlin asked, thinking how hiding his magic from Arthur had complicated things considerably in the past.  
  
Arthur’s eyebrows quirked up, “Why didn’t  _I_  say something?!  _You_  were the one constantly lying to me!”  
  
Merlin swallowed, knowing there was nothing he could say to make rectify that particular omission in retrospect.   
  
“Just… Go to sleep, Merlin. Thank you for the fire.”   
  
Arthur sounded weary and his thanks not at all grateful. Merlin struggled to get to his feet, nearly collapsing altogether when his legs wanted to refuse carrying his weight. He managed to stumble away from the fire, away from Arthur who was wrapping himself in a blanket and lowering his head onto one of the pillows, his front turned to the fire, his back to Merlin.  
  
For a moment Merlin considered running away. Arthur obviously despised his presence and he felt so utterly miserable getting lost in the snow and freezing to death didn’t seem at all bad. But the small voice inside of him, reminding him of his destiny stilled that urge.   
  
He took the other blanket and pillow and found a spot where the roof didn’t leak and the draft wasn’t too bad and letting himself sink to the floor. All he could do was wait until morning.   
  
That turned out to be much more difficult than he’d anticipated. Being far away from the fire, the meagre shelter did nothing to improve his body heat that was steadily declining as he tried to give in to fatigue. His clothes were still damp from the snow and though he’d taken off his soaked shoes, his bare feet were blue from the cold. Shivering, Merlin remained there, waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come. Wondering how, if he managed to survive the night, things would change between Arthur and him. Whether Arthur was going to ask him to resign as his manservant or worse, leave Camelot altogether. In the gloomy chill it was easy to come up with the worst possible scenarios.   
  
“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice broke the silence. “What are you doing?”  
  
Arthur hadn’t turned to face him; it took Merlin a while before he realized the prince expected an answer. “I’m trying to sleep.” Merlin said softly.  
  
He heard Arthur sigh. “Why are you trying to sleep  _over there_ , Merlin?”  
  
Merlin didn’t know how to answer that, feeling rather safe, wrapped up in a ball, away from the angry prince.   
  
He heard Arthur fumble with the blanket, and saw that he scrambled upright to face Merlin.  
  
“It’s freezing in here. You should get beside the fire.” Arthur simply stated.   
  
Merlin struggled into an upright position and stared at Arthur.  
  
Arthur turned away again, lying down once more. “I don’t repeat my orders, Merlin, so you better get your butt over here and fast.”  
  
Merlin quietly crawled closer to the fire, keeping at an acceptable distance from the prince.   
  
Arthur only sighed again. “I want you over here,” he said, pointing to the space in front of him.  
  
Merlin slowly complied, feeling slightly wary as he was forced to invade the prince’s personal space.  
  
“You’re still a bloody icicle!” Arthur reproached, as Merlin stole away the warmth of the fire, his frozen back almost pressed against Arthur’s front.   
  
Merlin tensed as he laid there, Arthur almost painfully close. Arthur, who was already nice and warm from the fire, Arthur who wanted him to be warm too, Arthur who was wrapping his arms around him, engulfing Merlin with his warmth.  
  
Merlin hummed in pleasure, then tensing again as he realized what kind of sound he’d made.   
  
They stayed there for a while, Merlin tense in Arthur’s arms, unsure what to say or do.   
  
Finally he broke the silence. “I’m sorry… I should have told you.”  
  
It didn’t feel particularly wise to bring up the magic again when Arthur was holding him against him like this, but Merlin felt like he needed to get it off his chest.  
  
“You should have,” Arthur agreed, his low voice reverberating against Merlin’s spine. “But I understand why you didn’t.”  
  
Merlin let the words sink in; their gentleness and understanding and slowly he felt his muscles begin to relax.  
  
“One day, not now, but one day you can tell me about all those times you used your magic to save my life.”  
  
Merlin almost choked on his own spit as he heard Arthur’s words.   
  
“My magic… It’s all for you, Arthur. For you to become the greatest king Camelot will ever have.”  
  
Merlin felt Arthur’s soft, irregular breath in his neck, the only response he received for a while. Until he felt a soft, chaste kiss being pressed into his neck. So small, it was easy to miss.   
  
“Go to sleep, Merlin.” Arthur commanded, but his voice held not even a trace of that pompous arrogance Merlin had come to associate with Arthur’s orders.   
  
Their bodies fitting together, Arthur’s mouth in his neck and arms around Merlin’s waist, Merlin let sleep take him away. Despite several parts of his body still blue and frozen, he had never in his life felt so filled up to the brim with warmth. 


End file.
